Kiss Quick
by keyflight790
Summary: iI know love, and it's all push and shove, so stop talking and put your back into it./i Or the one where Draco doesn't need to be saved, thankyouverymuch, and if it wasn't for Harry fucking Potter, he wouldn't be in this mess.


Draco knew exactly what Sam was playing at. It wasn't the first time that someone had taken him home, stared at his dark mark. Told him that it wasn't his fault. That he didn't have a choice. That they knew who Draco Malfoy really was.

Sure, there were wizards out there who still hated him. They had every right to. It's not as if Draco was a good person after all. He hadn't tried to stop horrible things. He had done horrible things.

And yes, in the end, he had helped. If you could call it that. He handed Potter his wand. More like he threw it at him. And that had helped Potter kill the Dark Lord.

Scarhead had made sure everyone knew that. Precious Potter had gone in front of the Wizengamot, the press, the Minister of Magic himself and had announced that Draco bloody Malfoy had helped him save the day. That he couldn't have survived, that they wouldn't have won, if it wasn't for him.

So, in some way, he had Potter to thank for the chiseled man who was currently nestled between his thighs. After all, if these slags couldn't get their hands on Golden Boy, Draco was practically the next best thing.

Draco threw his head back into the mattress as Scott attempted to suck his cock, his lips tightening around the head, gagging slightly as he tried to take down Draco's length. Draco winced as he felt dry fingers tug against his bollocks, before they began to venture south.

He grabbed his wand and cast a solutam , irritated that once again, he would have to prepare himself if he wanted to get properly laid tonight.

"Just fuck me already," Draco whined as he frustratingly fisted the sheets below him.

Excited by the invitation, Steve released what little hold he had on Draco's cock with a swift pop.

"You want this, baby? I'm going to make this so good for you."

Draco swallowed hard, hoping the internal cringe he was feeling wasn't showing clearly on his face. Seth didn't seem to notice.

"You've been through so much, baby. I'm going to take care of you," he moaned, his breath uncomfortably hot against Draco's ear as his cock fumbled to find the slickened hole.

Draco rolled his eyes before taking his own hardened length into his lubricated hand, stroking his cock methodically. He wanted to just get fucked, and then floo the fuck out of there. By the time Sean's hard member breached the first ring of Draco's arse, he was already on the edge, rubbing his thumb against his slit as the man above him rutted erratically.

"Yes, baby, you like my dick? Like how good it feels?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to block out the moonlight as well as the sounds of that word, baby , from his ears.

He wasn't a baby. Draco Malfoy didn't need someone to coddle or hold him. He certainly didn't need a daddy. What he needed was a nice, warm shower. Possibly some beans on toast.

Merlin, this was taking too long.

Draco began pumping his cock harder, trying to focus on the fumbling length that was jutting in and out of his arse, completely missing his prostate with every thrust.

If it wasn't for Harry fucking Potter, Draco wouldn't be in this mess.

He thought back to Potter that day, in the courtroom, dressed like he was still on the run in those muggle jeans and that ratty grey t-shirt, the same thick black glasses surrounding those stupid green eyes, as he just stared down every witch and wizard in there. Like he was daring them to go against his wishes, daring to see what he would fucking do if they sent the Malfoys to Azkaban after he saved the entire wizarding world.

Draco moaned as he felt his bollocks tighten, the first waves of his climax finally crashing over him. His moan must have encouraged Shane along, the brute now clawing against Draco's lithe hips as he followed Draco over the edge.

He sighed in relief, casting a quick cleansing charm over his chest and arse as the man above him withdrew. Draco felt a heavy arm drape over his waist, trying to pull him against the fit chest.

"I just want to hold you all night, baby," Sid declared before he stuck his tongue in Draco's ear.

Draco shuddered, disgusted by the wetness that breached his inner ear canal. He was no longer able to obtain his composure.

"Yes, well, thank you, Stu, but I really must be going," Draco grimaced as he twisted out of the other man's grasp. He grabbed his trousers and headed for the warm flicker of the floo. He barely heard the other man's groan before he picked up the powder and called out his destination.

"Stu? Baby, wait, it's Sh -"

"He called you what?" Pansy asked incredulously the next day at lunch.

"Baby."

"Well, that's disgusting," Pansy sighed as she lifted her mug of tea.

Draco stabbed his salad angrily with a fork before dragging it to his mouth. "And that wasn't the worst part," he spat, his mouth full of lettuce. "He also said," Draco paused to swallow his food, "that he wanted to take care of me. Hold me all night."

"Don't want to snuggle, Draco?"

"The last thing I want is some sweaty bloke suffocating me while I try and get my eight hours. And I can take care of myself, been able to for quite a while, thank you very much."

"Hmm," Pansy rolled her eyes. "You really do know how to pick 'em."

"Pot meet kettle," Draco responded with a flippant hand. "It's not like you're finding all of these diamonds. You just seem to bring home the rough."

Pansy shot Draco two fingers. "Yes, well, I may have just polished off a very desirable specimen if I do say so myself."

"Oh, please. Do tell me about how you've miraculously uncovered the perfect man."

"Men, actually. One for me, and one for you, darling."

Draco couldn't help but sigh. Pansy's set-ups were usually highly attractive, with the personality of a bologna sandwich. Bland and horrible, unable to keep a decent conversation despite usually being able to perform an adequate blowjob.

"I am not signing up for another one of your blind dates, Pans." he shot her an incredulous look.

"It's only blind if he doesn't wear his glasses," she muttered quickly before adding, "You owe me one. Remember that date with Chad?"

"I would prefer to forget, actually. Although my crotch still hasn't forgotten what hot soup poured on ones trousers feels like."

"Great. It's settled, I'll see you tomorrow night at the Leaky."Chapter Text

* * *

Draco refused to put any effort into the stupid date. He quickly rummaged through his closet, tossing aside the nicer robes, sticking his hand farther back. He grappled at an old pair of jeans that surely had his father rolling around in his grave when he'd purchased them, and snagged a light grey jumper off the shelf. Slipping on his Oxfords, Draco barely ran a hand through his hair before he was out of his flat and apparating in front of Diagon Alley.

He found the whole thing boring if he was being honest. Pansy's picks were always the same; some bloke who was good looking, but had nothing cooking in their thick skulls. Just all flashy words and false praise, eager to get into the sack and fuck Draco Malfoy. And then once they knew what it was like to fuck an ex-Death Eater, someone who'd helped Potter kill good ole' Voldy, they were done. Or worse; they wanted to save him, coddle him and tell him it would all be alright, as if anything would ever be alright again.

As if his best friend wasn't dead, and his father wasn't dead and his cousin and his aunt, as horrible as she was at the end. As if his mother wasn't hiding in the manor like it was her own personal prison. As if he didn't wake up in the middle of the night screaming their names, or dreaming of that damn snake, slithering, leaving blood in its wake.

He didn't want to go, but he knew Pansy needed this. She wanted so badly to put the war behind them, to make amends, to find and fall into love , whatever that meant. He'd walk to the ends of the earth for her, and he figured walking through the front door of the bar was a good place to start.

The Leaky was crowded as usual, it being a Friday night. Draco spotted Pansy, waving like a plonker from their table in the back. He rolled his eyes and surveyed the backs of both heads as he walked to the table.

He paused, recognizing the sharp ginger and unkempt raven, and grimaced at Pansy's sharp look before he finally rounded the table.

"Potter. Weasley. Just what kind of sick joke is this?"

"These, Draco ," Pansy answered, nudging him hard in the ribs, "are our dates for the evening, and if you don't want me to order soup," she nudged again, this time her elbow hitting his right thigh, very close to his unmentionables, "you will be nice."

"I don't know if I've ever seen Malfoy be nice," Ron said jovially. He was seated directly across from Pansy, which meant-

"Now, Ron, come on. He was nice, maybe - er, six months ago? During that Ministry meeting, remember? He said my shirt looked lovely."

"I said it looked almost presentable, Potter." Draco smirked.

"Ahh, yes, that's right. I can't believe you remember."

He could feel his ears tint into what he could only assume was a dark pink. "Yes, well, it was such a rare occasion."

"Was that the shirt Hermione picked out for you?" Ron asked.

"You let a woman pick out your clothes?" Draco sneered.

"You let a woman pick out your date!" Potter laughed, motioning from Draco to Pansy with his fork.

"Yes, and while we are on said date, I hope you both will remain civil," Pansy spat. She signaled for a refill of Cabernet.

They placed their orders quickly. Draco placed an order for a whisky neat, with an aside of 'please keep them coming' to the waiter.

"Never pegged you for whisky," Potter said, as he lifted his own glass of Pinot.

"Never pegged you for someone who likes to be pegged."

He burst out into a laugh, spraying his sip across the table.

"Charming," Draco said, dabbing the white wine off of his shirt lapels. "Do excuse me for a moment. Pansy, would you join me in the loo?"

"We don't go to the same loo, darling."

"Now, darling? " he snarled, scooting his chair back.

She glanced quickly at Ron and Harry before she followed Draco to the back of the restaurant.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" Draco hissed as soon as the door closed.

"I was thinking that Ron's a nice bloke. He told me this hilarious thing the other day about-"

"Not the weasel, you tosser. Potter."

"Oh. Well, that was actually Ron's idea. Said he's got a bit of a thing for you."

"A thing?"

"Yeah, I guess he's been watching you."

"That sounds menacing."

"I don't think it is, I think it's kind of sweet."

"You think nifflers are sweet."

"I think you're being a ponce. Just give him a chance."

Draco pinched his nose. "You want me to give Potter a chance? This is the same git you threw under the bus in front of the Dark Lord."

"Yes, and it's the same git that you gave your wand to. Maybe you could go back to his place, and give him your other wand?"

"Don't be crass."

"Crass is my middle name, darling. Now wash your face and put a smile on it before we get back out there."

Dinner arrived shortly after they returned, and the conversation seemed to flow as easily as Draco's whisky down his throat.

He found out that Ron and Pansy reconnected while she was redesigning the Auror robes for the Ministry. She was measuring Weasley for his new uniform and got a little heavy-handed when mapping his inseam. Apparently, she appreciated what she discovered under the bolt of fabric.

Draco also found out that Potter was as sarcastic as ever, keeping up their banter far longer than he could have imagined. They clinked glasses and threw back shots as each of them got in their digs, Malfoy bringing up his brilliant badges during the tournament, and Potter bringing up the slap that Hermione planted on him in third year.

"You know that badge is still stuck on Potter Stinks," Potter grinned, slinging back another firewhisky, his cheeks darkening in the dim bar lights.

"Yes, well, I still have scars from your little bathroom stunt."

"At least it isn't directly on your forehead."

"Please, as if anyone can see your precious scar under that nest you call hair."

"I dunno, I think you like my hair, Malfoy."

It wasn't until the end of the night when they kissed that Draco realized just how intoxicated Potter truly was.

* * *

"Well, we must be off!" Pansy said giddily as she tucked her arm into the crook of Ron's elbow.

"'S been nice s-seeing you, Pans," Harry slurred, lifting up the remainder of his wine.

"Merlin, Potter, let's get you home."

"Yours or mine, Mmmalfoy?"

Draco rolled his eyes, He could tell Potter was too drunk to Apparate, but he figured the Knight Bus would get him home.

He wrapped Potter's arm around his shoulders and led him out the front door. He had just started to raise his wand to call the bus when Potter grabbed his wrist, shoving him back against the sturdy brick of the Leaky, pressing his hard body against Draco's chest. Before he knew it, Potter was running his fingers through his hair, his face nuzzled against Draco's sharp jaw.

"I want you to wreck me, Malfoy," Potter moaned, the deep guttural sound sending a lightning bolt of pleasure straight to Draco's cock. He knew they were drunk, and that Potter wouldn't be saying this if he wasn't. The thought barely scraped his mind, however, before Potter's mouth was on him.

Draco tilted his head back into the rough brick wall as cherry red lips kissed hungrily against his throat. He was having trouble focusing, his head foggy from the copious amounts of liquor he currently had in his system. He knew in the recesses of his mind that he would regret this, that Potter would regret this, pushing him into the exterior of the bar, in front of Diagon Alley, where anyone could walk by, but Draco was having trouble caring about tomorrow.

The only thing he currently cared about was Potter's tongue on his neck, and Potter's hard cock against his thigh. Tomorrow was future Draco's problem, and present Draco was going to enjoy this.

"I want you to fuck me, want you to stick your thick cock in my arse, want you to own me, Draco," Potter was moaning again, against the edge of Draco's jaw as he nipped the tender skin.

It was that last bit that made Draco snap. Hearing Potter moan his name sent shivers down his spine as he flipped them, shoving Potter's arse against the brick wall. He gripped his wrists and held them roughly above his head, grating them against the cracked brick. Draco wedged a knee between his thighs, feeling the raven-haired man buck up against him as his hard cock searched for friction.

"Yes, Draco, please, yes ," he groaned as Draco rotated his hips, pressing the hardness in his trousers securely against Potter's as he frotted against him.

They both climaxed like that, rubbing their hard cocks against the fabric of their pants, against the fabric of each other's trousers, as if they were fifteen instead of approaching thirty. As if they both didn't have perfectly good and empty beds at home, and had to sneak away to have dirty wanks in alleyways.

"Come home with me," Potter murmured against Draco's throat, his forehead sticky with sweat as it brushed against Draco's ear.

"You're going to hate yourself in the morning," Draco responded, finally raising his wand to flag down the bus.

"The only thing I'll hate is not waking up next to you," Potter answered, just as the purple monstrosity pulled in front of them.

"Gentlemen," Stan Shunpike leaned out the door to greet his potential customers.

"Just the one, Stan," Draco answered, pushing Potter towards the entrance. "Make sure Potter gets home safe. 12 Grimmauld Place."

Stan nodded, motioning for Harry to get in the bus.

"You're not coming?" Potter asked, his voice high-pitched in the cold air.

"Believe me, Potter, you'll be grateful in the morning." Draco grimaced as he pushed the brunet through the opening.

He caught a quick glimpse of Potter's forlorn face before the bus skittered away, merging savagely into the London Draco thought past Draco was a right prick.

He woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, still in the soiled trousers from the night before. He had Apparated back to his flat, thankful to have made it in one piece before he crawled into his four-poster, hoping to sleep off the night of debauchery and regret.

It was the persistent click-click-click that woke him, rather than the sunlight that flickered throughout the room. Draco turned, rubbing his forehead aggressively, as he shot a glare towards the bloody owl that was tapping on the bedroom window of his flat.

"What do you want," he called to the bird as he opened the window. As if in response, the owl simply dropped the rolled parchment onto the hardwood floor before swooping back into the morning sky.

Draco grumbled as he picked the parchment off the floor. He recognized the hasty scrawl before he even read the words.

We need to talk.

H

Fuck Past Draco. Fuck him right in the arse.

Draco busied himself with organizing his flat, cleaning every square inch as if wiping off the dirt would wipe away the dirty thoughts that were ravaging his mind.

Wreck me.

He tried to go to sleep, thinking that closing his eyes would take him away, take the words away. However, at night, in the dark loneliness of his flat, Malfoy couldn't hide.

Fuck me.

Draco couldn't help but let those words filter through his mind, through his dreams, until he woke up with his hand gripping his cock, furiously pumping, skin against rough skin as he came, shuddering and alert.

Own me, Malfoy.

Draco wanked so much that weekend that his cock was raw, tender to the touch by the time he went to his office on Monday morning, locking the door hastily upon entry.

Draco avoided Potter for days, which wasn't easy considering they were on the same floor. He'd see Potter in the breakroom, hands closed tightly around his cup of tea, and Draco would turn on the spot as if he suddenly remembered something important in the opposite direction. A glimpse of raven hair would send Draco running for the loo, slamming the door of the stall as he convinced himself he wasn't hiding, not him, not Draco Malfoy. He just really had to take a piss, that's all. For the third time that morning.

After several days of ducking out, Draco determinedly remained locked in his office, coming in early and leaving late, telling himself that the reasonable stack of papers just had to be completed before he could go home, before he could go to sleep.

Everything toppled over on Friday. Apparently, the tricks of coming in early and staying later than anyone else in the department had run its course. Draco emerged from his office Friday night when he was confident the floor was empty and that he was alone. Just as he opened the door, however, he realized his mistake.

Potter stood in the doorframe, conveniently blocking his escape.

Fuck me.

"We need to talk." his voice was steady, echoing down the empty corridor.

Wreck me.

"No, we really don't, Potter," Draco sneered as he tried to push the other man out of his way.

Own me.

"I meant what I said."

"You - We were drunk," Draco shrugged. "People say stupid shit when they're drunk."

"I'm not drunk now," Potter responded before he pushed Draco back into his darkened office, kicking the door closed as he crossed over the threshold.

Draco began to protest when Potter's hands continued to push against his hips, forcing his movements until Draco's knees buckled against the edge of his desk.

Potter's hand ghosted the tenting in his trousers, and Draco jerked his head back, exposing his throat. Harry took it as an invitation, burying his head there, licking and sucking and teasing the tender skin. Draco couldn't help but moan into it, the feeling of impending ecstasy building in his stomach, in his groin.

"I want you, Draco." And there was his name again, falling off of Potter's tongue like a curse, like a blessing. He wanted all of this, had for a long time, but he needed to know.

"Why?" he asked, his voice coming out high and strangled as if his entire body was willing him to keep quiet and keep kissing Potter.

Harry's hands found Draco's waist, grabbing onto his hips. "What do you mean, why?" he growled, his lips now on Draco's collarbone, nibbling softly against his flesh. "You're so fucking fit."

Draco watched as Harry sunk to his knees on the rough carpet floor, unbuttoning his trousers as he went. He yanked the fabric in one fluid motion, exposing his cock to the stifling office air. It flopped down heavily, pointing directly into Harry's mouth like the barrel of a gun.

"Not good enough, Potter. Lots of people are fit. Neville's more fit than I am, and I sure as hell don't see you on your knees for him."

"I don't want Neville." His voice ghosted over Draco's cock and it twitched needily.

Draco didn't know why he was fighting this. He wanted it, after all. Wanted to see Harry begging for it, begging for his hard cock, bucking and twisting as he wrecked him. But a part of him was having trouble accepting that Potter wanted this too.

"So, you're just looking for a fuck?"

"Are you offering to fuck me, Malfoy?"

He'd been down this road. Getting one off to get through the night. He knew how easy it would be, to let Potter swallow him down, to come in his mouth, to finally know what it would be like to fuck the Chosen One, the one he'd wanked to all weekend and so many weekends before.

But he didn't want a mindless fuck. He didn't want to do this, whatever this was anymore, going from one bed to another, trying to stay warm but just returning to the cold, night after night.

"As much as I want to say yes, Potter, my answer is no."

"Did I do something wrong?" Harry asked incredulously.

"No. This just isn't right," he said, as he tucked himself back into his trousers and walked out of his office, leaving a stuttering Harry Potter still on his knees in the darkness.

* * *

"Heard you left Potter with a case of blue balls."

"He wasn't the only one whose balls were blue, Pansy," Draco sneered as he stabbed a round tomato with his fork, watching as the juice spurted out onto his salad.

"Ron is very cross with you."

"I don't really care what that muppet thinks of me."

"Well I care if my boyfriend and my best friend aren't mates," Pansy said, shooting Draco her best puppy dog eyes.

"Oh, he's your boyfriend now, is he?"

Pansy shrugged. "Man knows his way around a kitchen...and the bedroom," she winked.

Draco cringed. "I do not want to hear about the Weasel's ginger pubes, thank you very much."

"Oh, come off it, Draco. You're just jealous because you chose not to find out about Potter's dining habits."

"I could have if I wanted to."

"Excellent point, darling. So please, tell me why you don't know what he can do with that tongue of his?"

"Merlin, Pansy, it's a miracle you can eat anything with such a dirty mouth."

"Ronald now knows exactly the things I can do with my mouth, thank you very much."

"And now I'm done eating."

"Suit yourself," she smirked. "Now, why did you reject scarhead."

"He just wanted a quick fuck."

"And?"

"And I'm tired of that."

"Fucking?"

"Tired of having it off and then getting out. Tired of having to pretend to have a good time, and then feeling miserable the next day. I'm just-"

"Tired?"

"Fuck off."

Pansy smirked and took a bite of her salad. She waited a beat before saying anything else.

"I don't think Potter's like that."

"They're all like that."

"Ron's not. He brought me flowers on our first date, and not pansies like some other clots , but daisies. A whole bouquet of beautiful, white daffodils. Said they signified new beginnings."

"Bully for you."

"I'm just saying, there are good guys out there. Besides, Ron told me Harry's fancied you for a while. It was his idea for the double date."

"Well he should have brought me flowers, then."

Pansy chuckled. "Please, like you wouldn't have taken one glance at his gardenias and not burned them to a crisp."

Draco's eyes widened as they bore into Pansy.

"Did he bring flowers?" he etched his words out like chalk on a chalkboard.

"It's possible."

He huffed loudly as he continued to stare Pansy down.

"I was just trying to help. You're not the flowers type."

"That's for me to decide! Pansy, let's make one thing clear. You are done, I mean, done, meddling in my love life. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Chapter Text

Draco left the cafe and rushed right over to the flower shop.

"Hi, Draco!" Neville smiled welcomingly as the little bell above the door tinged. "What can I help you with today?"

"I need to get some flowers."

"Well...you've come to the right place," Neville shrugged as he motioned around to the various plants. "Want to maybe fill me in on some more details?"

"I think I've fucked up."

"Hopefully not as bad as last time, eh?" He winced at Draco's scowl. "Too soon for war jokes? Right." Neville rubbed a hand awkwardly along his neck. "So, what did you fuck up so badly that you think a plant will fix it?"

"Potter."

"You fucked Harry?" Neville asked jokingly.

"No, Longbottom, I fucked it up with Harry."

"Oh. I see. C'mon, we'll get you sorted."

They walked around the shop, Neville pointing out various plants. He stopped by a pot of what looked like white roses.

"Did you like the flowers Harry got you?"

"I didn't get them. Pansy tossed them first."

Neville frowned. "She just tossed my flowers?"

" _My_ flowers. She didn't think I'd like them."

"Well, to be honest, Harry didn't think you would either. But he wanted to let you know, you know?"

"Let me know what?"

"Flowers all stand for something. They're more than just delicate things on the end of a stalk. Take gardenias, for instance," he ran his thumb across the soft white bud. "They stand for trust, clarity, and renewal. He wanted to let you know that despite, or because of, your past together, he wanted to give this a shot. The two of you."

"I didn't know that."

"Yeah, well, Harry's crap for sharing his feelings. Guess that's why he chose to say it through flowers instead."

"Can I do that?"

"Do what."

"The plant emotion thing."

"That's what I'm here for, Draco. Follow me."

Draco followed dutifully through the rest of the store until they reached a brightly coloured flower. "The Peruvian Lily," Neville smiled broadly as he pulled the pot off the shelf, "actually grows backwards from the stem, so that the bottom of the leaf is the side you see when it blooms. These twists can symbolize the hard times that can make every relationship special. It's like the struggle you both have gone through, coming out the other end."

"That's perfect."

"Yes, well, I'm very good at what I do. Although I hear you noticed how fit I am as well." Neville chuckled. "I'll make sure to let Ginny know what a fine piece of arse she has."

Draco blushed. "Right," he said, his lips in a thin line. "I'll just take this then, shall I?"

"Good luck, Draco. Harry's worth the trouble, you know?"

"I hope I am, too," he mumbled as he dropped some galleons on the table and headed out the door.

* * *

He stood on the pavement outside of Potter's flat, running his hand nervously through his hair, adjusting the ridiculously large bouquet in his arms, resisting the urge to turn and run at every passing second.

It was there that Potter found him, a takeaway bag in his hand and a quirk of a smile on his face.

"Draco," Potter said plainly, as if he wasn't at all surprised to see the man on his doorstep, or the flowers in his arm.

"Neville said something, didn't he."

Harry shrugged. "He may have given me a heads up."

Draco nodded.

"Anything on your mind?" Potter asked, cocking his head to the side and eyeing the flowers in the crook of his arm.

"I don't like to cuddle." Draco said abruptly, his weight shifting from one foot to another.

"Okay…"

"And I don't always say the nicest things."

"I've noticed."

"And I don't want to hold hands or do that thing where we look into each other's eyes and just … get all mushy."

"No mush. Got it. But you are holding flowers."

"It seems that I am. Don't get used to it."

"Alright then." Potter lifted up the bag. "I got curry for two if you want to come inside."

The interior of Potter's flat looked just like he had expected; warm and inviting, covered with blankets on couches and pictures in frames.

He handed the bouquet over awkwardly. "Guess you can have these, now."

"Thanks," Harry chuckled as he grasped the stems. "You know, my mother's name was Lily."

"Oh." Draco chewed on his bottom lip as he took a seat at the kitchen table and watched Potter assemble his flowers in a vase, before he divvied up peanut curry chicken. He handed a plate to Draco as he accioed two butterbeers from the fridge.

"Non-alcoholic," Harry murmured as he twisted off the tops. "Don't want you thinking I'm otherwise influenced."

Draco frowned. "I didn't know about the gardenias," he murmured, pushing a piece of chicken around his plate.

"It was a silly idea."

"No, it wasn't. It was silly of me to think you just wanted something quick and dirty."

"Well, I'm not opposed something dirty."

"You know what I mean," Draco said sternly.

Harry shrugged, shoveling a forkful of rice into his mouth. Draco tasted a bite of vegetables, savoring the subtle punch of spices.

"I don't usually do relationships," Draco said blandly.

He was used to that line, spitting it out as men tried to convince him to give them a chance, to go out on a second date, somewhere ritzy and expensive and where the Prophet was bound to get pictures.

The second the words were out of his mouth, however, he regretted them. He thought about how nice it would be to come home to someone, the same someone, the same raven-haired man who was sitting across that very table, shoveling copious amounts of food and chewing wildly.

"Usually?" Harry leaned on that word.

"Yes, usually. Like you usually don't swallow or eat with your mouth closed, apparently."

"I tried to swallow the other night. You wouldn't let me." Harry paused, shooting Draco a hearty grin. "What are you so scared of anyway?"

"Scared, Potter?"

"You heard me, don't try and pull that shit."

Draco slumped in his chair, which he knew was very unbecoming. This whole thing was unbecoming, though. Malfoys did not talk about theirfeelings.

"I'm sure this is easy for you, Golden Boy, with your charming smile and your disgusting table manners, but for the rest of us, it's hard to…"

"Trust?"

"I was going to say open up, but yes. Trust."

"You do trust me, Draco." It wasn't a question. Potter said it like it was the truth, as solid as the wooden table below their elbows. As if it was a beam Draco could tie himself to, wrapping his rope around it and cinching the knot.

He did trust Harry after all. He had trusted him with his wand, with his life on that broom, with saving the wizarding world and getting out of that hellhole.

"Besides, we don't have to label anything. You don't have to call me your boyfriend, or whatever. We could just be two blokes who have dinner, or drinks, or spend a lot of time together, and shag, maybe, at least-"

"Did someone hit you with a babbling curse, Harry?"

"Oh, fuck you."

"Is that still on the table?"

"I was hoping more for a bed, but any hard surface will do," Harry grinned.

Draco stood up and walked briskly towards Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist. He placed a kiss, strong and sure, on the lips of Harry bloody Potter.

* * *

Draco half-suspected that their kiss would be like that night at his office, all rushed and heated but instantaneous, as if it were merely the barricade to a pleasure-filled circus, something to barrel through on the way to other gratification.

Instead, Harry kissed him with the slow light of a flame, a flicker building into a burning heat that radiated through his entire body. Their kisses were long and tender, and Draco found himself lost in them, lost in the swipes of his tongue and the heat of his breath and the crash of their teeth as it deepened and deepened.

Fuck me.

That voice, that thought, swam through Draco's brain as he fell into their kiss. He knew he could fuck him, turn Harry around and push him into the wall, lubed cock lining up perfectly with his hole.

Harry would be wrecked from that; Draco's seed leaking out of his furled hole, his own orgasm present on the painted wall. He could picture that raven hair matted against his forehead, the outline of his scar barely visible beneath the sweaty locks.

But Draco didn't just want to fuck him. He wanted their night to be all Harry could think about that next week, in his perfect Auror office down the hall. Just as Draco would be sitting in his own office thinking of Harry on his knees in front of his desk, mouth eagerly awaiting his hard cock.

He wanted to be with Harry, and not just for that night, but for many nights to follow. The thought scared him, excited him. He needed to show Harry that he wanted to give this a real shot.

Draco released Harry's lips from his own, and whispered, "Let's go to bed."

Harry took his hand and walked them to his bedroom. Draco regarded the bed filled with pillows and blankets; soft surfaces full of possibilities. He paused only a moment to flick his wand and light a couple of candles on Harry's bookshelf.

"No mush?" Harry asked, his voice slightly panting as he nodded towards the flickering flames.

Draco smirked and shook his head. "Far from it. Now take off your clothes."

"Yes," Harry exhaled, his fingers jumping to the buttons on his shirt.

"Slowly, Harry. I said this wouldn't be quick."

Harry's eyes widened in the candlelight. His fingers were shaking slightly as he undid each button, revealing more and more of his gorgeous chest. Draco inhaled when he reached the last one, exposing a fine trail of hair leading into his trousers.

Draco hands were twitching, wanting to reach out and rip off his clothes, or Vanish them completely. But he held steadfast, wanting to remember every moment of Harry trembling under his gaze, slowly discarding item after item of clothing. He watched as his belt was uncinched, the leather whipping out of each loop with a satisfying swish.

He watched, eyes hooded, as Harry pushed down the denim, revealing black pants against his caramel skin. "Just wait," Draco murmured. He reached out and ran his knuckles along Harry's chest, feeling the soft ridges of his abdomen, before he allowed his hand to drop further down his body. He gently nudged the tip of Harry's cock through his pants, relishing in the sharp intake of breath he heard from the raven-haired man.

"What do you want, Harry?" Draco asked heatedly, wanting to hear that voice say those delicious words one more time.

"Want you to own me, Draco."

"Get on the bed."

He watched as Harry lowered his pants slowly, releasing his cock from the bindings, before he crawled onto his bed, settling in the soft blankets. Draco took a moment to admire Harry, his body muscular, his cock already leaking in anticipation of Draco's impending ministrations.

Draco felt like a lion, seeking his vulnerable prey, as he removed his clothes and crawled onto the mattress, draping himself over Harry's frame. He kissed him hard, owning his mouth with his tongue. After moments, he broke the kiss, each panting into the other's mouth, desperate with need.

He began to lick a path from the hollows of Harry's jaw down his neck. He felt Harry shiver as his tongue lapped around his nipples, tracing down the fine hairs on his chest.

"You smell so good," Draco murmured as he pressed his nose against the coarse hair surrounding Harry's prick. He wrapped his hand around the base, and licked slowly, leisurely reaching the pulsing head before pulling it into his warm mouth. Harry moaned as Draco wrapped his tongue over and over, before sucking hard on the girth. His other hand drifted up his calf, journeying to the back of his thigh.

"Yes, please, yes," Harry grunted, canting his hips, shoving his cock even farther down Draco's throat.

Draco coughed slightly, pulling off of Harry's cock with a slick pop. "Patience, Potter," Draco said with a smirk.

He gently circled Harry's rim with the pad of his thumb, tracing the soft circle of hair surrounding it. Harry shifted slightly at the sensation, his pupils dilating as they stared. Draco winked before wrapping his lips around Harry's cock once more, his head foggy with lust and moans.

He licked along the underside of Harry's gorgeous cock, before mouthing at his bollocks. Harry keened, his mouth opened wide as he experienced the pleasure of Draco's mouth, Draco's tongue.

"Fuck, Draco, please," Harry groaned, his voice hoarse.

Draco thought he could come just from that, just from hearing him beg.

"Soon, Harry," Draco soothed, gently spreading his thighs. "Shit, you're gorgeous like this," he sighed, before licking a fat stripe across Harry's furled hole.

"Ngggh!" Harry bucked hard against Draco's tongue, wrapping his hands behind his knees to provide Draco better access. Draco welcomed the invitation, plunging his tongue deeper and deeper into Harry's hole, before nipping at the skin there.

Draco didn't think he could wait anymore. He adjusted to his knees and wrapped Harry's ankles over his shoulders. He grasped Harry's hip with one hand, aligning himself with the other as he pushed against Harry's hole. Draco felt the first bite of resistance before he was able to nudge past the opening and finally entered the warm heat.

"Merlin, you're so tight, Harry," Draco groaned as he continued to thrust inward. "It's so good."

"Mhng," Harry groaned, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to relax.

Draco lifted one of Harry's legs, rubbing his palm against Potter's calf in soothing motions. The adjusted position allowed him to drive all the way in, until his entire cock was wrapped in Harry's blazing core.

He stilled, allowing Harry to adjust to the feel of Draco inside of him. Harry opened his eyes, black swallowing almost all of the green. Draco slid out gently before jutting his hips forward in one swift motion.

"Fuck," Draco gasped, watching his cock disappear as Harry writhed below him.

"Fuck, Draco, yes," Harry moaned in response, his hand wrapping around his cock, pulling needily along its length.

Draco began to thrust faster, adjusting his cock, no longer able to make it slow. The rapid motion caused Potter to cry out, his hands leaving his cock to claw at the blankets below him.

Draco didn't know how much longer he could last, especially as he saw Harry's face tilt back, eyes closed, groaning from his cock. He yearned to touch Harry more and wrapped pale fingers around Harry's hard shaft. He ran his thumb over the tip, pushing in at the slit as he watched Harry keen, hands now gripping at the headboard, searching for something to ground him from the increasing pleasure.

"Yes, Draco, I'm going to, please—."

"Come for me, Harry," Draco grunted.

The words had their desired effect. Harry shuddered as his orgasm ripped through him, his moans filling the room like a symphony. Draco felt the walls of Harry's arse contract around him as Harry cried out in pleasure, his cock painting white ropes of cum across his chest.

The feeling of Harry coming undone at his touch sent Draco over the edge. His back arched as wave after wave of his orgasm washed over him.

* * *

"Neville, I need your help again."

"What'd you do this time?" Neville asked, putting his pruning shears down on the front counter.

"Why do you always assume I've done something?"

"I dunno, Draco. The buttons, the Inquisitorial Squad. Plus, you know, that thing with the cabinet. And Ginny told me you were the one that wrote that poem about Harry in second year, the one about his eyes being as green as a toad?"

"I did not!" Draco met Neville's cool stare. "Fine. Are you going to help me or not?"

"I'll help. What are you looking for."

"Well, it's Harry and my one month anniversary."

"I wish he was mine, he's really divine…" Neville grinned.

"Longbottom."

"Right. So what do you want to say?"

"Well, it's...Potter and I...it's been going fine."

"Fine, Draco? From what I hear it's been more than fine. "

"You're an infuriating git, you know that?"

"I've been told. Do you like Harry?"

"I guess."

"Do you, maybe, love him?"

"It's a little too soon for that, don't you think? It's only been a month."

Neville shrugged. "I don't think love runs on a timeline, Draco. If it's something you feel, then it's not too soon."

"So what flowers say 'I really like you and might even love you even though you're a prat most of the time and we'll probably kill each other but I'd rather die fighting with you than live with anyone else?'"

Neville thought for a moment before walking over to a pot filled with bright yellow flowers. He pulled one out, handing it to Draco.

"The daffodil, on its own, signifies misfortune, or even unrequited love."

"Well I certainly don't want that. Did one of your pots fall on your head, Longbottom?"

"Just be patient, Draco. Now one on it's own, no good. But when you have a whole bouquet," Neville paused to hand over seven more stalks, "the meaning changes to new beginnings and eternal joy and happiness."

"I like the sound of that. But how do I know it won't stand for the first reason, the unrequited thing?" Draco stared doubtfully at the bundle of flowers in his hand.

"Well, if the bouquet of red roses I just sold to Harry has anything to say, you'll be fine."


End file.
